A/N: Yikes, I learned my lesson about soliciting criticism. Never again.

Seriously, though, thanks for the feedback. It is appreciated, and it's wonderful to have such responsive and thoughtful readers. I'm sorry that I wasn't able to respond to some reviews before this week's chapter; it's been a busy seven days. Responses are still coming, though, have no fear.

Harry washed ashore in a massive surge of water, still astride the kelpie, dragging Draco onto the beach behind him. Two Ministry wizards lifted Draco out of the water and woke him from his charmed slumber. Harry dismounted and discovered to his sudden surprise that he couldn't breathe; the effects of the gillyweed had not yet worn off. Harry retreated to the shallows and spent the next few minutes floating near the beach, waiting for his gills to disappear. The kelpie, meanwhile, followed Harry around in the shallows like an obedient dog.

When Harry finally noticed that his gills were closing, he stood and removed the bridle from the kelpie. The beast seemed shocked to be so suddenly released, and dove immediately toward the center of the lake. Harry then splashed through the shallows toward the shore, where a Ministry wizard was waiting for him, holding a towel. Harry snatched the towel away and stormed toward the judge's table.

When Harry reached the judge's table, Dumbledore beckoned him closer. The headmaster was seated at the far end of the table, and Mad-Eye Moody was standing behind him.

"That was well done," Dumbledore said quietly. "You showed quite a lot of integrity and ingenuity."

"Didn't think you had it in you," said Mad-Eye.

"You could see?" asked Harry, voice full of disbelief. "How?"

Dumbledore gestured to the lake. Harry turned, and saw that the surface of the lake displayed an image of Fleur, swimming through the merpeople village with her younger sister in tow.

"It's a scrying spell," Dumbledore said. "I cast one for each of the champions, after you left the shore. This task would have been difficult to judge, if we did not know what was going on under the water. And terribly boring for the spectators, I might add."

"You saw everything?" Harry was mortified—everybody in Slytherin would know that he came in third place because he was distracted with Fleur.

"Nearly everything," Dumbledore said. "Some portion of your struggle with the grindylows was obscured by weeds."

Harry sighed. Of course they would miss the heroic rescue portion.

"The judges were preparing to rescue Ms. Delacour when you stopped to help," Dumbledore continued. "Your selflessness made our efforts unnecessary."

"You were going to save her?! I thought that was just one of the dangers of the tournament!"

"My dear boy, while the occasional sudden death might be unavoidable in this tournament, a school would not allow one of its finest students to be slowly drowned. Not if anything could be done to prevent it."

Harry clenched his hands together. Of course Dumbledore wouldn't let that sort of thing happen. Harry had been stupid to believe it, and his stupidity meant that he was in third place instead of first. And everybody in Slytherin had watched it happen. They had watched the judges, ready to save Fleur, until Harry ruined everything. It was so stupid. He was so stupid.

Dumbledore adjusted his glasses on his nose. "Scores will not be announced until Ms. Delacour returns. Why don't you wait with the other champions until then?"

Harry nodded and walked away, toward Diggory and Krum. Hermione and Cho Chang had been revived, and were wrapped in large towels. Krum was standing near Hermione, glaring protectively, and Hermione seemed to be simultaneously embarrassed and flattered.

Draco was slightly off to one side, and was using the towel to aggressively dry his clothes. Harry decided to approach his friend, rather than the other champions.

"Third place?" Draco asked, before Harry could speak. "Was there some problem with the gillyweed? Did you run into the squid?"

"No. Fleur got caught by some grindylows. I saw her on the way back and helped her get free. Then you got taken by a kelpie."

"You let me get taken by a kelpie?" Draco asked crossly.

"I got you back," Harry said lamely.

"At least you were already in third place by then," Draco said absently while drying his leg. When Harry did not reply, Draco looked up slowly. "You were already in third place, weren't you?"

Harry looked down at his feet and kicked a small rock.

"Harry, please tell me that you weren't in first place when you stopped to help."

"I wasn't in first place when I stopped to help."

Draco frowned. "Tell me the truth."

"I was in first place when I stopped to help."

"Dammit, Harry!" Draco threw his towel at Harry's face. "Why did we do all that work, if you were just going to throw it away! Come on!"

"She was in trouble," said Harry weakly.

"What, were you looking for a kiss?" Draco asked angrily.

"Shut up," Harry said. "I thought she was going to die."

"What's going on?" Hermione had left Krum and walked over to Harry and Draco.

"Harry got distracted by a pretty face and ruined all our work," Draco said.

"Fleur was in trouble and I stopped to help," Harry countered. "I thought the grindylows were going to drown her."

"You helped Fleur. Really, Harry?" Hermione seemed simultaneously surprised and… not surprised at all. And she was certainly unimpressed. Harry had been counting on Hermione to understand, and now she was judging him.

"Yes, really," Harry snapped. "Why wouldn't I want to save somebody's life?"

"That's all very nice, but…" Hermione shrugged. "I think Draco might be right."

"You do?" said Harry.

"You do?" said Draco.

"If it had been Diggory or Viktor, would you have stopped?"

"Yes!" Harry shouted. "This isn't about Fleur being pretty!"

"Okay, fine, it's not about Fleur being pretty," Hermione said, her tone suggesting that she didn't believe Harry at all. She glanced at Draco and shrugged her shoulders. Draco shrugged his shoulders back, and rolled his eyes.

"Both of you two can shut it," Harry said. "I feel bad enough as it is, and I don't need my own friends making it worse."

A shout rose up from the crowd. Fleur had surfaced in the lake, and was towing her sister behind her. The one hour time limit had long since expired, but Fleur was going to finish the challenge under her own power.

When the champions had all been assembled, away from their hostages, the judges presented their scores. Krum and Diggory received high scores for finishing first and second, respectively, and for successfully rescuing their hostages.

Fleur received low marks, because she finished outside the time limit, was waylaid by grindylows, and had only managed to rescue her hostage, not return with her.

Harry's marks were last. Harry was certain that Ludo Bagman had done this on purpose; nobody had expected Harry to be in the thick of the competition, and the crowd would be anxiously awaiting his score, wondering whether the youngest champion could keep pace with his much older competitors.

Dumbledore was the first to announce his score. "Mr. Potter. For your clever use of gillyweed, your intentional avoidance of the risk of grindylows, your efficient use of a cutting charm to free your hostage… you will receive five points."

A groan arose from the Slytherin section. If Dumbledore was only scoring Harry at a five, then Karkaroff and Madame Maxime were sure to give lower scores.

Dumbledore raised his hands, and the crowd quieted. "For your knowledge of the best manner to defeat grindylows, for the exemplary character demonstrated by rescuing a fellow champion from danger, for the selfless sacrifice of your lead in a timed competition to do so, and," Dumbledore began to chuckle, "for your novel use of a kelpie, you will receive an additional three points." Dumbledore raised his card in the air, and it showed a large eight.

Harry's jaw dropped. The Slytherin section erupted in cheers, and the rest of the Hogwarts students began clapping loudly, as well. Of course, Harry should have expected something like this. Dumbledore was notorious for his flair for the dramatic—this whole business was remarkably similar to the way that Dumbledore had awarded extra house points to Ron, Hermione, Draco and Harry at the end of Harry's first year.

Harry felt a pat on his shoulders, from Cedric Diggory. "Nicely done, Potter." And it sounded like Diggory really meant it.

Madame Maxime was next. She, too, scored Harry at a nine. She gave Harry a fond smile; it was clear that she appreciated Harry's decision to rescue Fleur.

Karkaroff announced his score third. "For allowing yourself to become distracted from the task at hand, which placed your friend in the clutches of a kelpie, and for reckless use of a cutting curse while near the finish line, you are awarded four points."

The Slytherin section erupted in boos and catcalls. The Beauxbatons students began to boo and hiss, as well, as did some of the other Hogwarts students. Harry noticed that even Viktor Krum was frowning at the favoritism that Karkaroff had displayed. But Harry also noticed that some of the Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs were chatting amongst themselves, casting suspicious glances at him, pointing fingers. Whatever goodwill Harry had earned by trying to rescue Fleur, a large portion of it had been undermined by Karkaroff's remark.

"Cutting curse?" Diggory asked quietly. "What's he on about?"

Diggory hadn't seen Harry's attempt at slicing through Cho's rope, then. Or the missing chunk of her hair. "It wasn't a cutting curse," Harry lied. "It was a releasing charm. At the very end of the task, I tried forcing you and Krum to let go of your ropes. I was hoping I could pass you at the last second."

"Really, Potter?" Diggory asked, sounding annoyed.

Harry shrugged. "It didn't work, did it? Tell Cho that I'm sorry about her hair, by the way."

"What?"

Harry's conversation was cut short as Ludo Bagman stood . "I am sad to announce that our scoring is capped at a maximum of ten points." Bagman held up a card and shrugged sheepishly. "I wish I could go higher."

Once again, the crowd erupted in cheers. The only person who wasn't smiling was Karkaroff. And Mad-Eye Moody. And Diggory, who was still looking at Harry skeptically. And about half of the Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs. Harry did his best to ignore them—other than them, everybody else was smiling. You couldn't please all the people all the time.

That evening, at dinner, people couldn't stop asking Harry and Draco about the task. Despite being unconscious for the entire time he was underwater, Draco was managing to tell a thrilling tale of the dangers of the merpeople and the threat of a kelpie. Harry supposed that Draco might have seen something when he was first taken to the bottom of the lake, but he doubted it. Then again, he wasn't going to begrudge his friend a little bit of glory. Draco had played an important part in the task, after all, even if it was only the role of "bait."

Conversation at the Slytherin table came to a screeching halt halfway through dinner, when Fleur glided over from the Ravenclaw table to speak with Harry and Draco. She thanked them for allowing her to save her sister, and gave them each a kiss on the cheek. Draco tried to turn his head at the last moment, so that he could catch Fleur's lips, but the older witch was prepared—she caught Draco's chin and held him firmly while she pecked his cheek.

There was much whooping and hollering from the Slytherin boys. There was a similar amount of glaring from the Slytherin girls, particularly Tracey, Daphne and Pansy.

Harry refused to allow them to ruin his mood. He forced a confident grin onto his face and looked around the hall, hoping to catch some looks of jealousy from the boys in the other houses. Instead, he saw more angry glaring: Hermione, of course, and Ginny.

Whatever. They weren't the ones risking their lives. Harry had fought a dragon and survived. Great feats of cunning and courage came with certain rewards, and it wasn't wrong for Harry to enjoy them.

Pucey, Montague and Warrington had organized another party in the Slytherin common room. It was scheduled to begin immediately after dinner, but Harry dallied at the Slytherin table, talking with Derrick and Bole. Pansy and Draco hung back, as well. Harry wanted to allow the majority of his housemates to return to the Slytherin dungeons before him, so that he could appear fashionably late. (It wouldn't do at all for Harry to be the first person at a party thrown in his honor, after all.) Harry would wait until the party was in full swing, then make an appropriately dramatic entrance with his small entourage.

As Harry chatted with Derrick and Bole, he considered how he was going to enter the party. Derrick and Bole weren't the greatest conversationalists, being only marginally less thick than Crabbe and Goyle, and thus they didn't notice Harry's distraction. Harry could enter the dungeons with a flourish of robes, for example, something that would give the impression that he was standing in a powerful wind. Harry briefly considered striking an intrepid pose with his hands on his hips, but that seemed a bit too Gryffindor. Too much the conquering hero. There was always the option of affecting humility, running his hand through his hair, acting embarrassed, presenting a façade of, "Aw, shucks, is this all for me?" But that didn't seem right, either. Harry wanted something smoother, something like Draco might do.

As Harry and his friends left the hall, he still hadn't decided on what he would do. Maybe he would just wave and soak up the spotlight. He could march directly up to Pucey and start speaking with him; Pucey was one of the most influential seventh years in Slytherin, and that would be a firm and clear signal of Harry's importance.

"Oi, Potter!"

Harry paused and turned. Ginny Weasley was standing in the hallway, back against a wall. The last of the students were clearing out of the Great Hall, and only a small crowd of students remained in the enteranceway.

"Hey, Ginny," Harry said casually. He gave her a wave and continued walking toward Slytherin with his friends. Harry was a little surprised that Ginny was reaching out to him. He hadn't really thought about her in days.

"I guess I don't need an answer, any longer," Ginny called out.

"An answer?"

"About the dance. After the task today, it's rather obvious why you asked me and then ditched me. I just hadn't figured you for a closet poofter before now."

"What!?" Harry stopped dead in his tracks, shocked. His friends came to an immediate halt, as well. They fanned out behind Harry on either side, Derrick and Bole on the left, Pansy and Draco on the right.

"We all saw it," Ginny said. "There's no sense in hiding it any longer. All the lads rescued a lady except for you. Viktor rescued Hermione, Cedric rescued Cho, and you rescued… Draco. I want you to know, it's okay if you fancy boys."

"I don't fancy boys," Harry said angrily.

"Really? All the boys at Hogwarts are drooling over Fleur. When she thanked you and Draco at dinner, Draco tried to steal a kiss on the lips. But you? You didn't even make an effort. You just sat there and took a kiss on the cheek. She doesn't have any effect on you at all, does she?"

Pansy stepped forward. "Listen here you little bitch—"

Harry reached out and put a hand on Pansy's arm. "Don't."

"You're going to let her talk to you like that?!" Pansy said.

Harry looked at his friends and saw Pansy's disbelief mirrored on their faces, in varying degrees of expressiveness. Derrick and Bole were simply surprised, while Draco was giving Harry a look of surprise mixed with a heavy dose of 'I told you so.' Unlike Pansy, who had leaped to Harry's defense, Draco was clearly enjoying Harry's discomfort. Harry knew exactly what Draco was thinking: if Harry hadn't asked a Gryffindor to Yule Ball, then Harry wouldn't' be having this problem right now.

If Harry had made his own problem, he was going to make his own solution. He leaned close to Pansy and whispered into her ear. "Don't worry so much about me, Pansy. I can take care of myself." As Harry drew away, he gave Pansy a smile and a wink, and let his hand linger on her arm for just a second too long. Ginny scowled, and Harry knew that he had upset her with his actions.

"If you're so desperate for an explanation, I'll give it to you," Harry said to Ginny. "But I don't fancy boys."

"So you're still in denial, then?" Ginny asked, forcing a grin back onto her face. "Haven't even admitted it to yourself, have you? Let me know when you do—I'd love to see the look on your face."

Harry let out a deep breath, and his face became calm and expressionless. Ginny's smile faltered, shocked by the sudden and complete lack of emotion that Harry displayed as he spoke.

"This has to be about me, doesn't it?" Harry asked. "It must be something wrong with Harry. If I didn't say that I fancied you at the Yule Ball… if I didn't come calling afterwards… if I didn't fall head over heels for you… it must be something wrong with Harry, right? Because if it wasn't something wrong with me, then it had to be something wrong with you. And everybody knows that there's nothing wrong with Ginny Weasley."

Harry kept his voice cool and cruel. He thought of how easily Lucius Malfoy's disdain had upset Arthur Weasley in Flourish and Blott's a few years ago, and Harry strove to achieve the same tone. "So I kissed you at the Yule Ball, and haven't talked to you since. Do you really want to know why?"

"It's obvious," said Ginny, trying to regain control of the conversation. Harry simply talked over her.

"The reason I haven't spoken to you since the Yule Ball is because I realized… you aren't worth it. You're a little girl, with a little girl's crush, and I have better ways to spend my time. You just aren't worth the effort."

Silence was heavy in the hallway. Ginny's mouth hung open slightly in astonishment. Even Harry was slightly surprised at the vitriol contained in what he had just said. Calling anybody worthless was an insult, but to a Weasley, it was the worst. The only things the Weasleys were rich in were family and friendship; if they didn't have that, they had nothing. It was rather awful of him, actually. And Ginny looked so hurt… Harry just couldn't stand to look at her.

"Have a nice night," Harry said sarcastically. He turned to walk toward the Slytherin common room…

…and bumped directly into Cedric Diggory.

Harry hadn't noticed the Head Boy's appearance. Sometime after Harry had started in on Ginny, Diggory must have returned from the Hufflepuff common room. With Harry's crowd of friends blocking the entranceway, Diggory couldn't get past. And it was obvious that Diggory had heard everything. The look on his face as he glared at Harry… it was the first time that Harry had ever seen Diggory look at somebody with contempt.

"Apologize," Diggory said simply.

"No," Harry said. "She started in on me, first."

"I don't care," Diggory said. "That's no way to treat a lady."

Harry looked at Ginny, then back to Diggory. "No ladies here," Harry said.

Harry heard a sniffle, and saw that Ginny had begun to cry. Her hands were clenched into fists, and her entire body was stiff. Harry expected her to run off and burst into tears once she was out of sight, but Ginny stood rooted to her spot, almost as if she was forcing herself to remain. She might be upset, but she was brave enough to see this fight through to its end.

Diggory folded his arms. "Apologize now, Potter, or you'll have a detention for it."

There was no way he was going to apologize to Ginny. Not in front of his friends, not after what she had said. Harry folded his arms and stared Diggory straight in the eye. He said nothing.

"Fine," Diggory said. "Detention, tomorrow night. Report to Professor Snape for your assignment."

"Thanks, champ," Harry said sarcastically. He gave Diggory a mock salute.

"I'm disappointed in you, Potter. After what you did in the lake for Fleur, I thought you might be different from the rest of this lot," Diggory said, gesturing at the group of Slytherins. "I really did."

"Whatever," Harry said. He stalked away toward Slytherin, jerking his head at Derrick and Bole as he passed. Harry was halfway down the hall before he looked back to see if anyone was following him. His four friends from Slytherin were close behind, and in the distance, Harry could see that Diggory was crouched down by Ginny Weasley, a comforting hand on her shoulder.

Harry turned forward again, scowling. What had Ginny expected to get out of that conversation? Confronting Harry in front of his friends maximized his embarrassment, of course, but it also meant that Harry had to defend himself. He couldn't let a Gryffindor third year take the piss out of him like that. And she shouldn't have started in on Harry if she wasn't willing to take a dose of her own medicine. Was she truly naïve enough to think that she could say nasty things to Harry with impunity? Maybe she was just stupid, and thought that Harry would confess his love for her if he were confronted publicly. As if.

And what was Diggory's problem, anyway? That wasn't his fight. What did he think he was doing, sticking his nose into Harry's business?

Actually, that was a great question.

"What's Diggory's problem, anyway?" Harry said loudly to his friends. "That wasn't his fight. What did he think he was doing, sticking his nose into my business?"

"He's letting the tournament go to his head," Draco said. "Between the tournament and being Head Boy, he struts around this school like he owns it."

Derrick and Bole nodded their agreement.

"He's not so wonderful," Pansy said. "Really, Harry, giving you a detention for a fight that little slag started? It's ridiculous. It's so obviously unfair that Snape probably won't even have you do anything."

Yeah, Draco and Pansy were right. Cedric was letting this tournament go to his head.

"I guess some of us just can't be as nice as the mighty Cedric Diggory," Harry said sarcastically. "'Oooh, my name's Cedric, we should all just be friends, can't we all just get along?' What a prat. I don't know what they're teaching him in Hufflepuff, but you can't solve every problem with a handshake and a smile. The real world isn't like that."

Draco chipped in. "'Oooh, my name's Cedric, look at my perfect teeth, don't you want to be nice to me just because of my smile?' Diggory's a complete joke, and everybody in Slytherin knows it. What's he going to do, hug his way to victory in the tournament?"

Harry threw his arms up in the air. "I know, right? Having a bunch of friends didn't save my parents from Voldemort. In fact, one of their 'friends' actually got them killed! Maybe Diggory thinks that they should have hugged Voldemort to death. That's what they did wrong, you guys. They needed to defeat Voldemort with the power of true love, give him a kiss on the cheek and watch him melt away into oblivion." Harry shook his head. "You're totally right, Draco. What a fucking joke."
For several moments, nobody spoke. Finally, Harry looked behind him. Derrick and Bole seemed astonished by Harry's rant. Even Draco had raised his eyebrows. Harry quickly replayed the last few seconds in his mind—what had he been thinking, saying that? Those were things you said alone, to Draco or Tracey, late at night and in an empty room when you were sure that nobody else was within earshot. And how many times had he just said Voldemort's name?

Harry ran a hand through his hair. "I'm sorry for ranting, guys. That just made me crazy, back there. I don't need to take it out on you."

"It's okay, Harry," Derrick said. Bole nodded in agreement.

"Besides," Pansy said, stepping forward and taking Harry's arm, "We all know that you aren't interested in boys."

"Thanks, Pansy," Harry said. He breathed a deep sigh of relief. It was nice to have some support. Some days, it felt like everybody was against him.

"Let's stop wallowing, then!" Draco said loudly. "There's a party to be had!" Draco pushed past the other Slytherins and led the march into the common room. For his entrance, Harry decided to simply walk up to Pucey and start talking about quidditch. Despite her lack of interest in the subject, Pansy stayed latched onto Harry's arm.

The party was good, as far as parties went, and Harry did his best to forget what had been said in the hallway. He spent most of the night with Pansy by his side, and that went a long way to forcing Ginny out of his mind. He was becoming quite fond of Pansy, and, after Sirius had pointed out the things that Harry needed to watch for, he was almost certain that Pansy fancied him, as well. Meanwhile, Draco regaled their housemates with increasingly complex (and increasingly false) tales of the dangers of Black Lake. By the end of the night, Harry was in an excellent mood; everybody in his house seemed to love him, and he felt like he could do no wrong.

When he said goodnight to Pansy, Harry felt the sudden urge to kiss her. She had been so nice to him over the past few weeks, and she looked so pretty with her short, dark hair and her cute little upturned nose. Nothing like Ginny, that was certain. At the last moment, though, Harry grew frightened. He had only ever kissed one girl before, and he was fairly certain that he hadn't done it right, because look how that mess had turned out. Instead, as he moved toward Pansy, he shifted his head to the right and brought his arms up, wrapping her in an awkward hug. Pansy didn't seem to mind, though; she held Harry longer than he would have expected, and more closely, and before she let go she whispered in his ear: "You were amazing."

Yes, it was a good party, and Harry was in a good mood. But troublesome thoughts that could be drowned out in the noise and lights of the celebration were relentless in the quiet darkness of the night. Ginny, crying in the hallway. Cedric, looking disappointed. Cho's hair, floating away in the water, severed by his curse. And, through it all, the discordant and lilting sound of a music box.

Harry slept fitfully.

The next day, when Harry reported for his detention that Cedric had assigned, Harry expected Snape to give him some nominal assignment, something akin to the detention he had received for dueling after Skeeter's article. Instead, Snape took Harry's wand and ordered Harry to clean the stables without magic. When Harry tried to appeal to Snape and plead his case, Snape's face hardened and he assigned Harry a second night of detention.

Harry, for the life of him, could not understand why.